


how much do i know, to talk out of turn?

by UnrememberedSkies



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: And these kids generally have a rough time of it, Bad Things Happen Bingo, But only because it takes place earlier on in the canon timeline, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Is what I'm trying to say, Kinda downbeat ending, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Mission Fic, More Expendable Than You, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, and everything that entails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrememberedSkies/pseuds/UnrememberedSkies
Summary: This is an important mission, so important that Reginald himself is there to oversee everything. Klaus is happy to keep his head down, and let his siblings do their thing. Unfortunately, sometimes the action comes to him, whether he wants it or not.And sometimes, revelations happen when you have a gun to your head.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Reginald Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691854
Comments: 31
Kudos: 337





	how much do i know, to talk out of turn?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarkywoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/gifts).



> For the prompt 'more expendable than you, with Klaus doing something risky to save one of the other Hargreeves'. Title is from 'Masters of War' by Bob Dylan, the whole song can be read as a huge 'fuck you' to Reginald. 
> 
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://unrememberedskies.tumblr.com/)!

They all knew that Reginald watched them on their missions, were aware of him standing on rooftops with binoculars trained on them, his numerous spies that reported back to him, the security cameras that he always managed to get access to.

They knew that whatever they did on a mission, Reginald was aware of it. Whether that was because he didn’t trust them, or wanted to more accurately chide them when missions went astray, or simply because the missions, too, were part of his great experiment, his presence was felt in every appearance of the Umbrella Academy.

They knew that. But it didn’t prepare them for how disconcerting it would be for him to be physically present at one of their missions, rubbing shoulders with the congressman who was running for re-election, and whom they had been brought in to protect.

The congressman had been receiving death threats, but, eager to avoid any scandal connected with his campaign, and not wanting to draw attention to what was no doubt a chequered past, he had enlisted the help of teen superheroes rather than the police.

Which was why they were at the donors’ dinner in evening wear instead of their mission suits and domino masks. Which was why Reginald had gathered them in the hallway before their departure and told them that this was one of the most important missions of their careers, that they were to put their best foot forward, and not embarrass him. Failure was not an option.

Which was why, on arriving at the extravagant hotel, Luther had taken Klaus aside and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to stay out of the way, keep his head down, and that if he touched a single unit of alcohol, Luther would personally throw him in the lake outside to sober him up. Klaus had responded to that with the dignity it deserved.

He wasn’t going to argue, though. Luther had essentially excused him from doing anything, so as the others dispersed to assume strategic positions, Klaus had obediently made himself scarce, and wandered off to the staff area at the back of the hotel.

Twenty minutes later, he was sat on a low wall outside of the kitchen, with a kitchen porter named Joel, a stolen glass of champagne in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

“I don’t know why I still have to come on these things,” he bemoaned, tapping ash onto a flowerbed. “They don’t need me, they definitely don’t _want_ me. It’s so lame.”

“Being a superhero _is_ lame,” Joel said, scratching at his peach fuzz beard. “But at least you didn’t spend three hours this morning peeling potatoes.”

Klaus looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you think they’d give me a job here?”

Joel grimaced. “Dude, did you not hear what I just said?” He shook his head incredulously. “At least you get to beat people up.”

Klaus took a deep swig from the champagne flute. “I don’t even like beating people up,” he said morosely.

Joel threw him a vaguely disgusted look, then jumped to his feet at the sound of crunching gravel. An angry-looking man in chef whites, carrying a large holdall, rounded the corner. He ignored the two teenagers lurking there and disappeared through the strip door, into the building.

Klaus watched him go with narrow eyes, learned instincts making him instantly suspicious. “Who’s that?”

Joel shrugged. “Agency chef, I think. Not seen him before today.”

Klaus was tempted to ignore it, but something didn’t sit right with him about the guy. He was going to have to investigate.

“Shit,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall and downing the rest of the champagne. He thought it’d be safe down here; they’d been expecting a gunman, and assumed he would approach from either above, or at level with the ballroom where the event was being held. Klaus had thought he’d be well out of the action down here in the underbelly of the hotel.

He followed the man inside, passing the door to the bustling kitchen. The corridor was cold and the walls unplastered, and with the exposed brick and concrete floor, Klaus worried that the echoes of his footsteps would reach the guy. Hopefully, the sound of chefs barking orders and the sizzling of food on the griddle would drown out any noise he made.

He turned the corner just in time to see the man let himself through a door to the left, and Klaus shrank back as the man glanced behind him, before letting himself inside.

He should call for backup, Klaus thought, as he made his way to the door the man had gone through. But he could just imagine Luther’s face if he called him down here only to find that the man really was a chef, and just getting changed down here or something.

Klaus pressed his ear to the door, listening for movement inside. When he heard none, he turned the handle, wincing at the creaking noise it made. He pushed the door open a crack, tensed and ready to run if the man was on the other side. Peering through, he saw only stacks of chairs.

Holding his breath, Klaus pushed the door a little wider, before slipping inside. The room was bigger than he’d first thought, although the ceiling was low, and it was filled to the brim with furniture, and there were only narrow walkways between the stacked chairs and tables.

Peering around one of the stacks, Klaus saw the man at the far end of the room, and heard the unmistakable sound of the holdall zipper being opened. Edging forward, Klaus craned his neck to look as the man leaned down and took something from within the holdall.

Klaus grimaced when he saw what it was. Yep, that was definitely some kind of explosive device. Klaus’s instincts had been right.

Klaus hated being right.

He needed to call for back up. He slipped back out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He went a little way back down the corridor before touching the earpiece Reginald had given them for this mission, activating the microphone.

“Uh, guys?”

There was a brief moment when Klaus thought no one was going to respond and he would have to deal with this shit himself.

“What is it, Klaus?” Luther already sounded annoyed, and Klaus scowled. It wasn’t like he wanted to be involved in this any more than Luther wanted him to be.

“I think I’ve found our guy. He’s in the basement, near the kitchen. He’s got a bomb.”

Luther swore vehemently and Klaus winced at the force of it in his ear. “I’ll be right there.” There was a moment of silence. “This better not be a joke, Klaus.”

Klaus threw his hands up in exasperation and didn’t respond. He looked down the corridor to the closed door, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet and hoping the guy didn’t emerge before Luther had come down.

He itched for another cigarette, another glass of champagne, or preferably something stronger. Anything to calm his nerves. He hadn’t been this close to the action on a mission for over a year. After he’d discovered the incredible ghost-obscuring powers of alcohol and prescription painkillers, and moreover, started self-medicating on a daily basis, he had been sidelined on every one of the Umbrella Academy’s missions. He was always the lookout, although no one ever really told him what he was supposed to be looking out for.

But that suited him fine, usually. Until the action decided to come to him. He was dead weight, and yet Reginald never seemed to cut him loose, despite his constant reminders to Klaus of how useless he was.

“Where is he, Klaus?”

Klaus whirled around at the sound of Luther’s low voice, surprising himself by how on edge he was. Once he’d caught his breath, he pointed down the hallway towards the door. “There’s a storeroom down there, stretches quite far back. He’s in there.”

Luther nodded. “That’ll bring him right beneath the ballroom.” He turned back to Klaus. “Does the room have another exit?”

Klaus tried to dredge up a memory of the room beyond the man. He’d been a little distracted by the bomb to notice any further details. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Luther rolled his eyes. “Right. So he might have already escaped.”

He hurried down the hallway, listening at the door before pushing it open, just as Klaus had done five minutes ago. Klaus followed when Luther beckoned him silently with his hand.

They both edged into the room. The man was still there, and the explosive was now attached the low ceiling. The device was bigger than Klaus had first thought, enough to blow a sizable hole in the ballroom above, and catch a lot more people in the blast. He wondered if his siblings were still up there, or if they’d followed Luther down here.

The man made one final adjustment on the device, checked his watch, before leaning down to zip the holdall back up.

Klaus glanced across at Luther, who was trying to edge around the other side of the chairs, squeezing through the tight stacks. The man slung the holdall over his shoulder, checking his watch again. The sound of a metal chair leg scraping against the concrete floor screeched across the room, and Klaus cringed as Luther froze, wide-eyed.

The man turned sharply towards the direction of the noise, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gun.

They stood, still as three statues. Klaus stared at Luther; Luther stared at the man. The man’s eyes darted from side to side as he scanned the room. Then he took a step forward, and there was the _click_ of the safety being removed.

“Who’s there?” the man said softly.

Klaus and Luther held their breaths.

“Show yourself,” the man said, and there was an edge of nervousness in his tone that Klaus knew from experience made desperate men all the more dangerous. “Come out, and I won’t shoot you.”

He started to search the room, peering around chairs, beneath tables. He was getting closer to Luther. If he rounded the next stack of chairs to his left, he would be looking straight at him.

Klaus took a deep breath, staring at the back of Luther’s head, willing him to stay quiet. Then he emerged from his own hiding place, hands raised in surrender.

The man’s eyes locked with his, and Klaus thought he saw a quirk of recognition in the way his eyebrow twitched. The man raised the gun to point at Klaus. “What are you doing here, kid?”

Klaus took a tentative step forward, no sudden movements, keeping his hands where the man could see him. “Got lost,” he said, with an awkward shrug.

The man gave a huff of laughter. “Like hell you did.” He took several steps forward, and out of the corner of his eye, Klaus saw Luther make an abortive movement towards them. Klaus shook his head minutely, although he didn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him. “You’re one of the Umbrella kids, aren’t you?”

Klaus said nothing, just watched him steadily. The man tilted his head. “I’m guessing you’re… the Séance?” Klaus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was the point of those stupid masks if every crook in the city recognised them anyway?

“That’s me,” he said, giving a little wiggle of his fingers. “Your local ghost conjuror.”

“So, not an _actual_ threat, then.” The man was smirking.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Klaus replied, trying to keep the indignation from his voice and channel something a little more threatening.

The man nodded, looking thoughtful. “Okay.” He brought the gun up so the cold metal of the barrel pressed against Klaus’s forehead. “Let’s see if those ghosts can stop me from shooting you in the head.” Over the man’s shoulder, Klaus saw Luther freeze as he made his way over to the bomb, looking across at them. Klaus willed him with his eyes to carry on. Who knew how much time they had left?

“If you shoot me,” he said quickly, “you’ll alert my siblings. You know, the _actual_ threats. And they will stop you, and all this will be for nothing.”

Luther was examining the bomb, a frown on his face that didn’t exactly fill Klaus with confidence. He looked over at Klaus and held up two fingers.

“Assuming they get here in time. This place is going to blow in less than two minutes,” the man said, pressing the gun more firmly against Klaus’s head, hard enough to make Klaus wince.

“In that case, you’d better hope they all get caught in the blast,” Klaus said, a headache beginning to blossom in his temples. “How do you fancy your chances against the Horror?”

He watched the man’s face, and sure enough, saw the tightening of his lips, the paling of his face. Ben had that effect on people, even when he wasn’t in the room. It wasn’t a reputation his brother particularly enjoyed, but his siblings found it very effective when they needed to threaten someone.

Suddenly, the man’s hand whipped out, seizing Klaus by the shoulder. “You’re coming with me,” he said, moving the gun away from his head, but still holding it close. He shoved Klaus back, towards the door he and Luther had entered through.

Time seemed to speed up, or, at least, the man suddenly realised how little time they had. He shoved Klaus down the corridor, gun trained on the back of his head. His grip was bruising on Klaus’s shoulders and Klaus hoped to God that Luther had internalised more of their bomb disposal training than Klaus had, otherwise he had given himself up as a hostage for nothing.

They passed the kitchen, and no one spared the teenager being held at gunpoint by a chef a second glance. Klaus blinked as they emerged out into the daylight, but had no time to appreciate the natural light and fresh air as he was shoved across the grounds, around the side of the hotel.

“Keep moving,” the man said, as though Klaus wasn’t already stumbling ahead of him as quickly as the man allowed. He kept looking at his watch on the wrist of the hand that was gripping Klaus’s shoulder. They crossed the grounds, heading towards the lake, and they were almost there when Klaus saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Diego was running down the steps from the front entrance, knives in both hands. Allison and Ben followed close behind.

“There!” Klaus heard Allison shout, pointing over at him and the man. The man swore, dragged Klaus back against him like a human shield, and pressed the gun against his temple.

“Stay back!” the man shouted, his grip on Klaus’s shoulder so bruising, Klaus was sure the bones were grating together. “I’ll kill him.”

The three of them slowed to a halt, still a good several yards from where Klaus and his captor stood, and watched the scene carefully.

“Five…four…” The man’s voice was shaky, and Klaus closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Luther had succeeded. “Three…two…one…”

There was silence except for the splashing of a fountain, the tweeting of the birds on a summer’s evening. Klaus held his breath for a fraction longer, in case the man had misjudged the timer.

Then, Luther rounded the corner from the direction of the kitchens, looking pleased with himself, until his gaze landed on Klaus and the lunatic behind him.

“Too late,” Klaus said, breathlessly. “You failed.”

The man growled. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m surrendering to Hargreeves’s little killing machines,” he hissed in his ear. He dragged Klaus back a few steps, before addressing the others. “Any of you makes a move and this one gets a bullet in the head.”

Nobody moved.

Not until another figure came through the main entrance, walking with purpose down the steps. Tall, with a sharply tailored suit, neat facial hair and a monocle.

“Dad,” Klaus whispered.

At the same time, the man said, “Hargreeves.” The hand holding the gun was shaking, and Klaus pulled away from it as much as possible. If he was going to get shot, it would not be because this guy had an unsteady hand. He felt the man’s mouth next to his ear again, uncomfortably close. “Your daddy’s a monster, kid.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said, deadpan. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hargreeves,” the man called across, ignoring Klaus. “Here’s the deal. You let me get out of here alive, and I don’t kill your boy.”

Klaus shifted uncomfortably in the man’s grip. “I really don’t think that’s the great deal you think it is.” He almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to know quite a bit about the Academy, but he hadn’t quite grasped the concept that they were all – but Klaus especially – completely expendable to Reginald. Five had proved that.

Reginald said nothing, but he did cross the gravel to where Diego stood. He said something in his ear, and Klaus watched as Diego shook his head fiercely. He could feel the man’s growing agitation behind him.

“I’m warning you, Hargreeves! Don’t try and set one of your attack dogs on me!”

Reginald and Diego seemed to be arguing in earnest now. Reginald was as stiff and unyielding as ever, but Diego was gesturing towards Klaus and the man, shaking his head, his expression pained.

“I’ll kill him!” the man screamed.

Klaus shook his head, wondering what his father was asking Diego to do. He thought he could guess. “Dude, he doesn’t care.”

He watched his father’s expression, the way he didn’t even look at Klaus. Whatever he was saying to Diego was making Diego shrink like a beaten dog. Whatever Reginald was trying to convince him of, he was getting through.

There was movement in the corner of Klaus’s eye, something glinting in the sun and flying through the air. The thud of impact. The firing of the gun. The whistle of hot metal barely skimming the top of his hair.

Klaus was abruptly released, and he fell to the ground.

He heard someone cry out his name.

He lay there, frozen for a moment, chin scratched by the gravel, hands curling and uncurling. When he could finally get his limbs to obey him, he rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows. His hand immediately went to his head, where he was certain the ends of his hair had been shot off.

Across from him, the man lay on his back, completely still, one of Diego’s blades embedded in his eye.

Klaus looked around, and saw a broken window on the face of the hotel where the stray bullet had hit.

Diego and Ben were running towards him.

Klaus got up onto his knees, crawled over to the fallen man. He stared down at him in shock, even as Diego and Ben sank down on either side of him.

“Klaus, are you okay?” Ben asked, as Diego patted him down frantically, checking for wounds.

“I’m fine,” Klaus said, shrugging away from their oppressive touch. He twisted around the see Luther crossing the courtyard to join Reginald and Allison near the steps.

“He m-made me do it, K-Klaus,” Diego said, sounding close to tears. “I swear I d-didn’t-”

“I know,” Klaus said, a little distractedly. He got to his feet, Diego and Ben helping him up like he truly was injured.

Reginald finally met his eyes as Klaus stood up, but as expected, his face showed no emotion other than his usual disdain. Klaus felt something like rage pounding in his chest. He strode over to Reginald, Diego and Ben hurrying behind him. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say when he got to his father, but fortunately, Reginald spoke first.

“Number Four, a certain level of incompetency is something I’ve come to expect from you, but today you have demonstrated that you can underwhelm even my low expectations.”

“Who was he?” Klaus asked, narrowing his eyes.

It was only because he was watching Reginald closely that he saw the way his eye twitched. “You tell me, Number Four. You spent the most time with him.”

“He knew you,” Klaus said. “He knew _us_.” His lip curled. “He said you were a monster.”  
He could see his siblings looking between him and Reginald, wide eyed and silent.

“I do not concern myself with the opinions of criminals, so that means very little to me.” Reginald turned to Luther, opening his mouth to begin issuing orders.

“He thought more of you than I do,” Klaus said, and heard Allison breathe in sharply.

Reginald turned back to him, expression twisted into something unpleasant. “Is that so?” he said, voice very quiet. Klaus felt Ben’s hand curl around his elbow, a silent plea to stop. Klaus wasn’t going to stop, what would Reginald do? Throw him off the team? Kill him?

“He thought you wouldn’t attack when he had a gun to my head. He thought you would care enough not to risk my life. But I knew better. You made Diego throw the knife even though you knew that gun would go off.”

“It wouldn’t have if Number Two had done better.”

Diego gave a full body flinch, and ducked his head in shame. Klaus felt hatred curl in his gut like nothing he had ever felt before. “How long is it going to be, before one of us is killed on a mission? Will you even care? Will you even give a shit that it will be your fault?”

“ _Number Four!_ ” Klaus had never seen Reginald lose his cool outside of the house before. He always gave the impression of being completely unflappable. “You and your siblings will get in the car and wait for me to sort out the mess you have made, and speak with the congressman. When we get back to the Academy, I will decide on a punishment for your insolence. Go!”

The five of them trailed back to the car, Klaus only moving when Ben tugged on his hand and half dragged him there. He could feel the way they all kept shooting him nervous looks, like they were afraid he was going to lose his shit again.

Once they closed the car doors behind them, there was silence for a long moment.

“You’re in for it now,” Allison said quietly.

“I don’t care,” Klaus said, shaking his head. He was feeling horribly choked up all of a sudden. “I hate him.” Ben rubbed his arm comfortingly, brow creased with worry.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that,” Luther said.

“Shut up, Luther,” Diego snapped immediately. “The old bastard deserved it. And Klaus was right, don’t pretend otherwise.”

To Klaus’s surprise, Luther closed his mouth and didn’t retaliate. He looked down at his lap instead. “I didn’t get a chance to say before,” he said, speaking to his knees. “What you did in the storeroom, giving yourself up after I screwed up, that was really… brave.”

Klaus looked up at him tiredly, and sighed. “The mission needed you,” he said. “More than it needed me.”

“You’re not expendable, Klaus,” Allison said, frowning as though the thought inconvenienced her.

A shadow crossed over the car as Reginald returned. “I think we all are.” The door opened and Reginald got inside. They fell into silence.

* * *

They all remembered those words two weeks later, when they filed through the Academy doors, weighed down by exhaustion and grief. Klaus felt the empty space next to him where Ben should have stood and glared at Reginald, daring him to say something. But Reginald had merely swept his gaze over them, stopping before he got to where Ben should have stood. Then he turned on his heel and strode off the study, closing the door behind him.

Klaus really hated being right.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are hugs for the Hargreeves kids. Comments are punches for Reggie.
> 
> Also, should I warn for Ben's death? I implied it in the tags but didn't want to tag Character Death in case it put people off who thought someone died who wasn't already dead in canon. If you think I should tag it, please let me know!


End file.
